Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. It was not for a week or a month. Jonathan, however, still lingered. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. ’ ‘Lucky indeed,’ answered Gerald, glancing at the pair again. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season.
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